


two peas in a pod

by aalphard



Series: super heroes series [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Not Beta Read, Sibling Bonding, basically tobio is a dork in love and miwa helps him come to terms with it, boys wearing makeup, miwa is a queen i love her, no romance but hints of it, one boy in specific, the hinata siblings are mentioned a few times but eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aalphard/pseuds/aalphard
Summary: “Come on, up you go. Sit on my chair, turned towards me. I’ll make you the prettiest you’ve ever been.”“I’m not pretty,” he complains, dragging himself out of bed and walking at a ridiculously slow pace until he flops down on top of the surprisingly soft chair. “You can’t make the impossible happen, Miwa. Even if you’re amazing, that’s not happening.”“Do you think I’m amazing?” She asks, tilting her head to the side, biting her bottom lip as if she’s trying not to let her smirk grow.“I’m not pretty,” he says again, shrugging.“You look a lot like me, though,” she whispers, crawling closer to him and dragging her bags along with her. “If you say you’re not pretty, then you’re saying I’m not pretty. Do you think I’m ugly?”“I didn’t say that,” he shakes his head. “And we’re not that similar…”or tobio finally allows miwa to give him a makeover.
Relationships: Kageyama Miwa & Kageyama Tobio
Series: super heroes series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771534
Comments: 4
Kudos: 129





	two peas in a pod

**Author's Note:**

> miwa is BACK
> 
> (also i changed the verb tense because writing past tense is too hard for me i am not sorry)

So, maybe he wasn’t the best with feelings. In fact, one might say he was the worst person ever when it came to that – because he just didn’t know what to do. If someone started crying? He might as well punch them in the face and it would still be better than what would’ve happened if he tried to talk them out of it. He’s _that_ bad – so it didn’t come as a surprise when he decided it would be a great idea to barge into his sister’s room with post-it notes in his pockets _just in case_ he forgot what he had to say. Never mind the fact that those were supposed to be _his feelings_.

What _did_ come as a surprise was the thing she was doing to her face _while_ wearing one of his favorite shirts – one of which, now, was completely covered in some weird powder.

“What are you doing?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Didn’t you ever learn how to knock?” Miwa chuckles, putting away the weird spongy thing she had been using to do _something_ to her face. “What’s up?”

“Is…” he huffs. “Is that my shirt?”

She only grins back at him.

Tobio rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He’d never liked to talk about personal stuff and the lump in his throat had started to form as soon as he started to pace in front of Miwa’s bedroom door, trying to memorize the words he’d spent so long trying to come up with. Which is stupid, he told himself over and over, because feelings are supposed to be something spontaneous and from the heart. Not that it mattered – because he sometimes wondered if his heart had been made out of stone or something, because he sometimes wondered how people could just _say_ stuff out of the blue without worrying about it for at least a good ten minutes prior.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re making a creepy face,” she says, crossing her own arms in front of her chest. “Something bugging you?”

“I wanted to thank you,” he blurts out, widening his eyes only a few seconds after the words left his mouth. “Because… uh, you… do things.”

“I do things, indeed,” she giggles. “What’s this about?”

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second. What _was_ this about? He’d been meaning to tell her he appreciated her taking over the house and taking care of him when she was basically a child herself. He’d been meaning to tell her just how much he enjoyed having those weird conversations in the middle of their meals when none of them needed to say anything for the other to understand what they were trying to convey with weird grunts in-between their bites. He’d been meaning to tell her he even enjoyed her morning shows while she was in the shower – except when she thought she could pull off an opera piece because he definitely didn’t like those. He’d been meaning to tell her he didn’t really mind when she’d wear his shirts, he’d just like her to tell him she’d borrow them first.

But he never manages to find the right words to. The post-it notes shift weirdly inside of his pockets and Miwa makes a funny face at him, shaking her head in disbelief, mouth hanging open in a quirky grin.

“Did you make flash cards?” She asks with that huge smirk of hers. “Did you _actually_ have to write down what you wanted to say to me so you didn’t forget it? You actual bird-brain, I can’t _believe_ you!”

“Don’t make fun of me,” he whispers, voice suddenly lost and cheeks burning.

“I’m not,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You’re adorable, really. In fact, you’re not at all what people think of you, you know that?”

He blinks slowly, tilting his head to the side and allowing himself to take a few steps forward until he flops down on top of her bed. She rolls on her chair, crouching down until their faces were so close he could see the tiny flecks of powder on her cheeks, the weird slimy thing just on the tip of her nose.

And then she sits back, smiling at him.

“You give off an antisocial kind of vibe,” she says, still smiling. “Sometimes you look like you’d burn down an entire building or like you’d probably murder the first person to talk to you. You have this weird frown that makes people wary and that creepy smile that sends shivers down my spine. We can work on that, though…”

“It just sounds like you’re being mean,” he chuckles. “I came here to tell you good things and it seems like you’re using this opportunity to attack me.”

She giggles. “I’m not, I swear! I’m just telling you things other people are too scared to.”

“Am I scary?”

“Sometimes,” she nods. “But deep down you’re a big baby who doesn’t know how to handle feelings. Most people won’t ever know that, though. You’re a tough guy to break down. I guess we’re two peas in a pod, you and I.”

“But you’re good with people?” He scratches his head, confusion splattered all over his face.

Miwa sighs, and even though she looks kind of stupid with the half-done makeup on her face, he still thinks she looks kind of cool. He’d always thought she was the cooler sibling, even when his classmates would whine about having sisters, about how it wasn’t as cool having a sister as it would be having a brother _because girls are boring_ , they’d say. For him, Miwa had always been someone he looked up to.

“I’m glad you think so,” she says. “But I’m not as great as you think I am, buddy.”

He didn’t even realize his mouth had been hanging open until she pokes him in the chin, smirking victoriously down at him. When she turns towards the mirror again, Tobio sighs, shaking his head. He sticks his hands inside of his pockets and reaches for the crumpled post-it notes, hoping they’re still somewhat readable so he could do what he had planned to. It’s only when he’s avidly scanning the papers that Miwa clears her throat and Tobio instinctively looks up, their eyes meeting through the glass.

“Not very nice of you to prepare your heartfelt confessions, Tobio,” she drags the last syllable of his name in the exact way she _knows_ he can’t stand. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Nothing in particular,” he lies. He needs time to think.

“Does it have anything to do with your mumbling after I asked you about your love interest the other day?” She’s still looking at him, smirking weirdly. “Or is it about something else?”

It _could_ be, he thinks.

“You know,” she trails on. “You don’t have to act all awkward around me. I was one of the first few people who saw you naked. There isn’t much of you I haven’t seen already…”

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, furrowing his brows.

Miwa only giggles back, squinting at him, the smirk never leaving her lips. Then, he sighs and flops back onto her bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, hands clutching the post-it notes tightly. Whoever told him feelings were something magical was definitely lying because _man_ , he just wants to find the right words but his brain seems to be frozen and his throat is definitely broken because he can’t even say anything to make this situation less awkward. He just wants to tell her what he feels – but he doesn’t even know _what_ his feelings are supposed to be.

She doesn’t say anything and neither does he – but he doesn’t hear anything other than their breathing and it’s then that he feels like his heart is being crushed, his lungs suddenly devoid of oxygen. Because she’s waiting for him to say something, anything, and she won’t move until he does. He hates it. But, then again, that’s something he’d always admired about her as well.

“Miwa,” he says, voice choked out and weird.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to do my makeup?”

“What brought this on, all of a sudden?” She giggles. He hears the sound of her chair and it’s suddenly a little easier to breathe.

“Nothing,” he lies. The memory is still fresh in his memory, that excited six-year-old patting his cheeks with a powder that made his nose itch, the stickers she decided would look amazing on the tip of his nose and on each of his cheekbones, the star-shaped hairbands and the horrendous pigtails. Another memory, not so fresh, of Miwa running after him when they were kids, holding her makeup bag tightly against her chest, pleading that he’d let her use him as a human model. “You’ve wanted to once, didn’t you?”

“We were kids,” she huffs.

“Yeah,” he props himself up on his shoulders and stares straight at her eyes, so similar and yet so different from his own. “Would you still like to?”

“What brought this on?” She asks again.

“Nothing,” he repeats. “I just thought it would be fun, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she grins.

Tobio would never admit it, but he feels a shiver crawling up his spine when she gets up and grabs her bags with her. There’s so much stuff in it that he starts to feel dizzy. _Are these stuff actually safe?_ , he thinks to himself. But he sees Miwa putting that on her skin every single day and she hasn’t died yet, so maybe that’s a good sign. It doesn’t stop the shivering, though. He grits his teeth when she joins him on top of his bed and he can’t help but glance at the mirror when she removes her hairband and helps him tie his fringe back with it.

And then she smirks.

“We can’t have you looking at the results ahead of time, Tobio,” again, the drag of that last syllable. Tobio wants to scream. “Come on, up you go. Sit on my chair, turned towards me. I’ll make you the prettiest you’ve ever been.”

“I’m not pretty,” he complains, dragging himself out of bed and walking at a ridiculously slow pace until he flops down on top of the s _urprisingly soft_ chair. “You can’t make the impossible happen, Miwa. Even if you’re amazing, that’s not happening.”

“Do you think I’m amazing?” She asks, tilting her head to the side, biting her bottom lip as if she’s trying not to let her smirk grow.

“I’m not pretty,” he says again, shrugging.

“You look a lot like me, though,” she whispers, crawling closer to him and dragging her bags along with her. “If you say you’re not pretty, then you’re saying _I’m_ not pretty. Do you think I’m ugly?”

“I didn’t say that,” he shakes his head. “And we’re not that similar…”

Miwa clicks her tongue, opening one of the boxes and Tobio sees a weird powder exploding from it, coating her fingers _and_ his shirt. _I’ll have to do laundry tomorrow_ , he thinks. She drags a little brush along the powder and brings it up to his face. His first reaction is to avoid it, cocking his head to the side as much as he possibly can without hurting his neck because _honestly, what even is that thing?_ But she’s persistent and plunges forward until he has nowhere else to run.

She drags it along his cheeks, furrowing her brows in concentration.

“Close your eyes,” she says, and he complies immediately.

He feels the soft touch of the brush sliding across his cheek and he almost sighs. She starts humming at some point and Tobio almost smiles, but as soon as his lips start to break into it, she clicks her tongue and scolds him for the sudden movement, telling him that _you’ll ruin everything if you move, you bird-brain_. He should’ve been mad, but it just made him want to giggle.

“So,” she says. “You can open your eyes now, if you want,” _he does_ “What was that about? What you said the other day. Are you in love, by any chance?”

Tobio feels his cheeks burn. He opens his mouth, but realizes he doesn’t really _know_. No one ever taught him what it felt like, being in love. No one ever came up to him and tried to explain what it would be like, to suddenly see someone differently, to want to be around them so hard it felt like your heart was about to explode and your lungs felt like they were burning and it hurt so bad you just wanted to scream in agony. No one ever came up to him and told him that, even though it felt horrible sometimes, it was also sweet and warm and inviting and strangely _comfortable_.

When he thinks about love, he thinks about the orange-haired boy and the sweet smile he’s always showing. He thinks about the orange-haired boy and the way he _exhales_ warmth, the way Tobio thinks he can drown himself in his warmth, in the softness of his embrace – even though he doesn’t really _know_ it, even though he never really experienced that before. He doesn’t care. He just knows it.

Miwa is looking at him, smiling sweetly. “So you are” she says and Tobio doesn’t have it within him to disagree. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know them,” he shrugs.

She hums as she reaches back to her back, grabbing another weird case that also shoots a weird colorful powder everywhere. Tobio can only thank the gods that they’re in her room and not in his – he bets these things are a pain to get rid of.

“So,” she goes on, picking up another brush from the bag. “Is it a girl?”

Tobio doesn’t answer.

“A boy, then,” she smiles. “Close your eyes.”

He does.

“Is he pretty?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

She doesn’t say anything. There’s the soft touch of the brush on his face once again, on his eyelids, and Tobio almost flinches, but Miwa’s hand on his face makes him sit still, eyes closed, completely at her mercy. She’s humming, he notices, and he remembers the melody – when they were little, their grandfather would sing them lullabies even if it wasn’t bedtime, even if they were having breakfast or getting ready for school. He would sing them lullabies even when they were already at the stage in which it would be considered weird to be lulled to sleep, to have someone sat beside you singing you a song. He remembers the melody and he feels a tug at his heart, tears prickling the back of his eyes.

“Don’t cry,” she whispers like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Don’t cry or your makeup will be ruined. What would grandpa think of you if your makeup got smudged?”

“I think he wouldn’t really approve of me wearing makeup in the first place,” he giggles.

“Yeah, he probably wouldn’t have,” she giggles along with him and Tobio pretends he doesn’t hear the sadness behind her words. “What kind of palette are we going for? Sunset? Pink tones? Sea breeze?”

“What is a palette?” he opens his eyes and she smacks him playfully on the shoulder.

“Eyes closed, mister,” she chuckles. Tobio can almost picture her shaking her head. “What kind of colors would you like me to put on your face?”

_Oh_ , he thinks. _Wouldn’t it have been easier to say that instead?_

He doesn’t even need time to think. “Orange.”

“Orange?”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“Just orange?” she asks, voice trembling with amusement. He knows she’s holding back her laughter. “Do you perhaps have any reason behind your wish?”

“No,” he lies.

“Sure” she giggles and he hears a pop coming from her direction. He flinches when another soft brush touches his eyelids. It feels surreal to have something done to you when you have no idea what’s going on, he thinks. “I’ll pretend I believe you and you can tell me when you’re ready.”

Tobio allows himself to giggle.

There’s something weirdly cold being spread across his cheeks and he flinches instinctively while Miwa scolds him for it. He dares to open his eyes and sees her in a completely different light now – she’s holding his chin up, turning his head from side to side slowly, spreading the weird cold stuff around his face with a weird spongy thing. She has her brows furrowed in concentration, tongue caught between her teeth, slightly hanging out of the side of her mouth, eyes sparkling and Tobio almost wants to chuckle.

If he’d known she’d be this thrilled to do that, he’d probably allow her to do that sooner.

When she starts to tug his chin up, making him stare at the ceiling instead, it’s his turn to furrow his eyebrows, because all of a sudden she’s dragging the sponge across his neck and it’s _so weird_ he tried to leave her grasp.

“Come on, man,” she huffs. “Have a little faith in me, will you?”

“This is weird,” he admits.

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” she shrugs, grasping his chin once again. “May I?”

He nods.

He’d be lying if he said he understood what she was trying to do, if he said he knew what those weird stuff she put on his face were for. But when she starts humming again, softly, as if she was the one who was trying to lull him to sleep, he allows himself to close his eyes once again and without noticing, he starts to hum along with her.

She turns his head a few times, dragging the sponge across his skin, chuckling whenever he ends up shivering because there are a few spots he just now discovered he was ticklish in. And when she’s done with it, the humming stops and Tobio opens his eyes almost immediately.

“It’s his hair color,” he says as soon as they stare at each other’s eyes.

“Huh?”

“Orange,” he shrugs. “It’s his hair color. I like it because it’s his hair color. And it’s warmth and comfort and softness and he’s all of those things. I think.”

She smiles, nodding. “Alright,” she goes on, reaching for her bag once again. “I’ll make you sparkle in orange and yellow tones. Maybe a tiny hint of red and a bit of pink? What do you think?”

He shrugs and sees her rolling her eyes, but the smile never leaves her face. He feels his own lips being tugged up and has to shake his head to make it go away, but Miwa notices it and smacks him on the stomach. They burst out giggling as if they’re back to being children, as if they’re making up for the lost time – which they _are_ , Tobio notices, and somehow it feels just as inviting and warm as it was watching the orange-haired siblings playfully teasing each other.

She’s still shaking her head while she scavenges inside her bag.

“What is he like?” Miwa asks and he almost jumps.

“What do you mean?”

“What is he like?” She repeats. “Why did you fall for him, why did you start thinking about him differently? Is he the older brother you told me about?”

Tobio gasps. “How do you remember that?”

“I’m not old, buddy,” she giggles, finally picking up what she was looking for and turning towards him once again. “What do you like about him?”

He cocks his head to the side and bites his bottom lip. It’s not like he actively thought about these things, really. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, he remembers his eyes and the way they crinkle at the sides when he smiles widely at him after he says something funny. Sometimes, as soon as he wakes up, he remembers the sound of his voice calling him an idiot but giggling softly right afterwards. Sometimes, when he’s doing his chores, he remembers the way he says his name and his heart hurts a bit.

Miwa slides forward until her face is closer than he would’ve liked her to be.

“Close your eyes,” she says and he complies. “I’m waiting for your answer, you know?”

He feels a soft brush across his eyelids and he has to fight back the urge to flinch. He takes a deep breath and bites his bottom lip, trying to make the words flying around in his head make sense. Miwa’s breath is warm against his face and she smells like sweet apples. He almost giggles but manages to hold it in – he’d definitely get scolded for it.

“I like his voice,” he says, almost in a whisper. Miwa hums, still sliding the brush softly against his skin. “And sometimes he smiles so widely I think his face is going to be ripped in half.”

“Creepy,” she chuckles and he allows himself to do so as well.

“But I like it because it means he’s having fun with me,” he admits. “I also like the way he pronounces my name. He doesn’t say it differently, but I think it sounds better when he says it. I like how excited he is. I like how small and cute he is because he’s so different from me. I like his hair.”

He goes on and on while she drags the brush along his skin, giggling whenever he says something weird. He tells her about his eyes and the flecks of gold in it, how inviting and warm they are, how soft and sweet he is, how much he’d like to spend an entire day wrapped up with him, doing nothing in particular. He tells her he likes his scent, fresh peaches and _warmth_ , like summer holidays, like that first walk in the sun after a long, cold winter. She clicks her tongue at him and snorts, telling him what a sap he is, and he can almost picture her shaking her head at him.

He smiles.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

When he does, she’s smiling at him. “Is it done?”

“Not yet,” she says, reaching back to grab something else.

“Do you want me to close my eyes again?”

“If you will,” she chuckles.

He does.

There’s something cold right on top of his eyelid and he hisses through his teeth while Miwa shushes him. _Stop being such a baby_ , is what she says, and he almost wants to laugh. She starts humming again at some point and he relaxes under her touch, tilting his head to the side, looking up, opening his eyes, closing them again, and letting her do whatever it is that she wants to do with his face.

She asks about _him_ again. She asks what they do when they meet up.

Tobio tells her about the other day, about watching over his little sibling and how he let her put makeup on his face as well. Miwa snickers and asks if that’s the reason why he’s letting her do this. He doesn’t answer and she slaps him on the shoulder.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t the first person to do that,” she sighs.

He also tells her about how similar they look, overly-excited and all smiles. Miwa giggles and says they’re their complete opposites, then, looking straight-up scary and antisocial and Tobio chuckles along with her because _yeah_ , that was definitely true. He tells her they met up under weird circumstances and that they have this secret super hero agenda because that’s what they told her when they met, because she still believes it.

Miwa tells him he used to believe everything she said when he was a kid, so it’s not surprising the little girl still believes them. She tells him they’ll have to break it to her if they don’t want her to put up a fuss when she finds out on her own. But first, she tells him, she wants to meet her and see just what she thinks about him. Because _wow_ , she says, _my little brother is a super hero and I had no idea!_ Tobio snorts and she scolds him for almost ruining the makeup.

And then, _finally_ , she tells him to open his eyes once again.

When he does, she’s got her brows furrowed and her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. He arches his eyebrows, scanning her face for anything other than _absurd concentration_ only to be utterly disappointed. She blinks at him, once, twice, and then she smiles.

“Alright. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you to.”

He nods and closes his eyes once more. She puts her hands on his shoulders and turns the chair towards the mirror, humming a song he doesn’t know. She plays with his hair for a bit and giggles to herself when Tobio furrows his eyebrows in annoyance.

“Okay,” she sighs. “You can open them now.”

When he finally opens his eyes again and sees his reflection in the mirror, he wants to scream. _Actually_ scream.

It’s not _bad_ , but it definitely doesn’t suit his sharp features. It’s a work of art, if he’s going to be honest about this, and he really wants to tell her that, wants her to know how badly he appreciates it, but it’s not for him, not at all.

He allows himself to crouch down a bit, staring at the details around his eyes. There are yellow vines on top of the orange eyeshadow, intertwining with each other almost playfully and Tobio thinks they resemble the sun, somehow. His eyes are supposed to be a reflection of what the sun looks like – and all of a sudden there’s something gripping his heart so tightly he doesn’t remember how to breathe.

_It’s beautiful_ , he thinks. _And it looks just like him_.

He wonders how Miwa managed to make this without even knowing what he looked like.

“Oh, you really do look a lot like me, don’t you?” She chuckles, playing with a strand of his hair. “Maybe I could put your hair up in those tiny baby pigtails and you’d look a lot like an actual girl. A very scary girl, but still a girl.”

“Not pigtails,” he whispers, the memory of star-shaped hairbands too fresh.

“So you’re okay with being called a girl?”

“Why would that be a bad thing?” He asks, looking up at her through his fringe. And then he adds, almost in a whisper: “It’s not like anyone would believe it, though.”

“And I keep telling you, man…” She giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck and forcing him to crouch down a bit so they both fit in the mirror. “You’re such an adorable dork.”

He allows himself to smile.

Even though he knows he looks stupid, even though he knows it doesn’t suit him at all, even though the slimy stuff on his lips tastes weird and icky, even though he wants to wipe his face clean once again, he allows himself to smile. Because Miwa is smiling, her arms still around him, her chin resting on top of his head, and they _do_ look alike.

And maybe he starts to like his face a little bit more after realizing that. Just maybe.

“Thank you,” he says, finally.

“What for?”

“For being you, I guess…”

“Oh?”

“And you look nice when you put on makeup and stuff. And the makeup you do is very beautiful, I think you’re a great makeup artist” he goes on. “I think you look nice with my baggy shirts as well, but I’d prefer if you asked me before you took them. Maybe. Yeah, definitely that. And also, I really like when you bake stuff, like cookies and things like that.”

She starts giggling at some point, but he doesn’t care. He starts to chuckle along, still babbling: “I also like the way you tie your hair up whenever you decide you’ll cook something. I like the way you’re focused on your goals and even the way you try to piss me off sometimes. Even when you ran after me when we were kids trying to put makeup on my face when I didn’t want to. You can do it now, though, just tell me when you need to, uh, practice these stuff, I guess? You’re really, _really_ good!”

“Alright,” she’s still giggling. “Do you want me to tell you stuff I like about you as well or was that just a free self-esteem boost?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I just wanted to tell you” he admits. “I don’t really know how to manage feelings properly, I think. Thank you for doing what you do. Thanks for being my sister, I think?”

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head, puffing her cheeks and closing her eyes. “You’re making me sick, man. Stop with the whole tooth-rotting stuff. I get it, I’m amazing and you love me, yeah. You’re not so bad yourself, to be honest.”

She waves her hand on top of her head and Tobio can help but giggle at the sight. He wants to tell her they don’t really look that much alike because she manages to get prettier whenever she puts on makeup while he just looks like something went wrong in the lab. He wants to tell her they’re not that similar because sometimes he feels like she knows exactly what to say while he needs at least thirty minutes to come up with a lame excuse.

But maybe, he thinks, smiling at his creepy reflection in the mirror, he doesn’t want to tell her any of that. Because maybe he really wants them to be just like two peas in a pod – he wants them to grow as close as two peas in a pod, wants them to be able to giggle like that on a daily basis. Maybe, he thinks, he won’t tell her that. Not because he can’t – but simply because he thinks that, _yeah, sometimes they do look alike_.

“So,” she says, poking the top of his head. He looks up at her with arched eyebrows.

Miwa turns the chair around as she flops down onto her bed once again. She has a weird smile on her face and Tobio thinks he’ll regret ever walking into this room when she takes a deep breath and then sighs, cocking her head to the side.

“When are you going to confess?”


End file.
